The Protector
by ASimplyHopelessRomantic
Summary: Kurt Hummel was not a murderer, or a killer, or even a monster. He was an artist, and one who cared


My one shot attempt at writing dark!Killer!Kurt. I hope you like it. Please comment and tell me what you think!

**I OWN NOTHING!**

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><p>Kurt had no intention of being a killer; never had the slightly thought of causing pain to another. In all reality, in his mind, he isn't being the extremely cruel murderer the people and the media set him out to be. He thinks of himself like an artist. He hurts people in a beautiful way; at least that's how he see's it. Kurt believes that this world is too small for great and powerful people like himself, and some of his fellow glee clubbers. That the world can't handle someone as beautiful as Quinn or someone who shines so bright like Rachel. He wanted to protect those gems, those diamonds in the rough. And the only way to do that was to hide them away, and make sure no one could ever take their power. He had to end them so they would forever be known as the treasures they truly were.<p>

Quinn was first. She was the most beautiful girl in Lima, and probably in the entire world. She was the snow white of the universe, and the media was the evil queen. They wanted to show her off, exploit her gift for their own gain. Kurt couldn't let that happen. He had never been a chemical genius, but he knew enough to know that if you use just enough liquid nitrogen, you could turn something into a pure, icy stature. Of course William McKinley wasn't insured to have the right amount, but it just so happened Dalton Academy did.

Late into the night while Quinn was asleep in her bed, her blonde hair tussled around in perfect form and her soft eyelashes were brushing against her upper cheek, Kurt stood there, watching her. She was an earthbound angel, and he was her protector. He sprayed her from head to toe, over and over again until she was nothing more than an angel ice sculpture.

After that, he went on to Rachel. She was a star with talent only few possessed, though many thrived for it. Her dream was to be on Broadway and maybe even one day perform with Ms. Barbra Streisand. Her voice was something that needed to be protected. So one dark and cloudless night, Kurt stole her away from her room and brought her out to the school's football field. As strange as it may be, it was the best place to watch the stars. Taking the six inch hunting knife, which had been passed down to him from his father, who had gotten it from his grandfather, and so on, he stabbed her straight into the neck and cut around, prying out her trachea. He intended to leave her with that, but Kurt realized he wasn't finished. Rachel was a star upon earth, and he needed to remind people that. Taking the knife, he cut at the edges of her lips, going upwards, giving her a joker-like smile. Rachel was the modern day Black Dahlia, who would forever smile up at the shining stars.

After that, Kurt thought he was finished. The news was buzzing of the two killings and Kurt figured it was best to leave town. He wanted to go alone, but his boyfriend, Blaine, insisted he tag along. He said if Kurt was to leave, he would follow. Blaine was a kind hearted soul who would do anything to help and simply loved to be there for him. In Kurt's eyes, he was one of a kind. And Kurt wanted to protect that. Before Blaine could even say another word, Kurt whipped out the hunting knife and plunged it into Blaine's chest.

He was thankful his home was empty as he cupped his hand over Blaine's mouth, stiffing the blood curdling screams. They had gone to the Berry house in an attempt to help Rachel's fathers cope with her death. Kurt loved that Finn was so broken up over Quinn and Rachel; it showed show much he truly cared, and Kurt thought that was great, coming from an airhead like Finn. Moving the knife around carefully, he carved around until he finally had what he wanted. Reaching forward, Kurt pulled out Blaine's loving - still beating heart,

Kissing him one last time, Kurt left Blaine in his room, lying on his floor, as he drove out of sight, his lovers heart resting in the palm of his hand. Kurt Hummel was not a murderer, or killer, or even a monster. He was an artiest, and one who cared.


End file.
